


Silent Devotion

by masulevin



Series: Self-Indulgence AU [9]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Mages and Templars, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-25 22:04:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12045216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masulevin/pseuds/masulevin
Summary: After everything she went through in Kinloch Hold during the Blight, Rose Wedgwood struggles to stay the happy mage the templars need her to be. When offered the choice between tranquility or leaving for a new Circle, she chooses to start over, hoping a new beginning will help erase the old memories.Unfortunately, the Kirkwall Circle has its own set of problems. Having to stay in the same Circle as Cullen Rutherford, the templar who wanted to annul Kinloch Hold, is the least of her issues.





	Silent Devotion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyDracarys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDracarys/gifts).



> Since this story takes place in the Kirkwall Circle between 9:33 and 9:40, there are some mentions of the violence experienced by the mages there. This is all stuff mentioned in-game, and none of it is described in any detail at all. BUT stay safe, please don't read it if it's going to be upsetting at all.
> 
> The title is from "Angels" by The xx.

**9:33**

Rose would be happy to see the ocean if the templar guarding her would stand a little farther away. She feels exposed and, frankly, unsafe with him standing so close to her. It’s just drawing attention to her situation, and the other passengers and even the crew of the ship keep giving her funny looks.

Well. The looks aren’t really funny. They’re full of terror because she’s a  _ mage _ . She’s Maker-cursed, and they think she’s going to turn into an abomination or slice her arms open in order to kill everyone on board.

As though she would  _ ever _ do something like that after everything she went through during the Blight. If she hadn’t turned in the Harrowing chamber with Uldred screaming in her face, she isn’t going to turn just because some sailors are a little suspicious.

She leans forward over the railing, peering down into the water. It’s choppy, making the deck pitch and roll under her feet, but she relishes the feeling of the salt spray on her face and the wind in her hair. The templar looks a little green next to her, but she doesn’t mind the rocking motion. She feels better on the ship than she ever felt in the tower.

“Come on, then, mage,” the templar snaps, his voice thin. She freezes at the feeling of his fingers around the back of her neck, squeezing enough to get her attention but not enough to hurt. He drags her back from leaning so far over the edge--really, she’d almost fallen overboard in her desire to feel the spray--and he pushes her along the deck toward the stairs.

She bites her lip to hold back the sigh threatening to burst from her lungs. Annoying her guardian isn’t the best way to get more time on deck before they arrive in Kirkwall, and, really, that’s all she wants. She doesn’t want to sit in the small room she and the templar are sharing and stare at the bunk above her.

She just wants to stare at the ocean and wonder if the templar will give chase if she jumps.

\---

The templar heaves a relieved sigh as he steps off of the boat and onto the solid ground of the Gallows courtyard. She follows along behind him, her hands clasped behind her back, her head appropriately bowed. The little bag of her possessions is slung over her shoulders, holding her entire life: extra clothing, a single almost-empty journal that was supposed to be her grimoire, and a decorative comb one of the senior enchanters gave her to say goodbye.

She eyes the courtyard from under her eyelashes. It’s… very gray. And it’s hot; sweat is already beading along her forehead and slipping down her chest under her robes, but she doesn’t move to brush it away. She tries to stay as still as possible, following the templar with a quiet obedience that she hopes will make a good impression on her new guardians.

There are a few templars out in the courtyard, but more interesting to Rose are the little shops that seem to have sprung up around the harbor. She eyes them from afar, curious about what merchants find  _ this  _ the best place to set up, but she’s pulled along before she has a chance to move.

A tranquil greets them, and Rose shudders, immediately looking away from the man. She came to Kirkwall to  _ avoid  _ being made tranquil, as a last resort, and yet they seem to be everywhere. The Gallows is practically crawling with them, and she shivers again when she finally steps through the threshold into the dark hallway that leads to the First Enchanter’s office.

He stands when the templar walks through his door, looking momentarily alarmed, but his face softens into a smile when he sees Rose hovering out in the hallway.

“Come in, come in,” he says. “You’re Rose, yes?”

She looks up at her templar guardian, but when he doesn’t seem inclined to answer for her, she steps forward and dips into a little curtsey. “Y-yes,” she pushes out.

He seems understand her nerves. “I am Orsino,” he says. “I trust you made it here safely?” His eyes don’t stray from her face, but she can tell from so many years in a Circle what he’s really asking.

Thankfully, her answer is the truth. “Y-yes. The, the journey was p-pleasant.”

His smile grows a little and his shoulders relax. “Good. Good. One of our templars will be here momentarily to check your bag, and then I can show you to your room--oh.” Orsino stops suddenly, looking over Rose’s shoulder, and she turns to see a dark-haired templar smiling at them. “Ser Carver, yes.”

Carver holds his hand out, and for an absurd moment Rose thinks he means to shake her hand in greeting. Before she can act on the thought,  _ her  _ templar is yanking her bag from around her body to pass over. Carver takes it over to Orsino’s desk and empties it out with a grim expression, sifting through the contents with a clinical, detached air. The three men ignore the way Rose’s face flames when Carver shakes out her smalls before tucking them back in, oblivious to her discomfort at having the templars see her underthings.

Couldn't they have sent her a  _ female _ templar?

The thought makes her chest constrict and panic claw at her throat. Do they even have female templars in Kirkwall? She's only seen men so far in the courtyard and in the halls, but surely…

“This is all fine,” Carver says, and he hands the bag back to Rose with a small smile. She takes it, nearly snatching it back, but he barely notices. His eyes have already found the other templar’s, and together they leave Rose alone with Orsino.

The two mages eye each other for a long moment. “I'm sure you must be tired,” he finally says. “I'll show you to your room and introduce you to your new roommate.”

Rose nods silently and follows Orsino through the winding halls, trying to remember where they’re going so she’ll be able to find her way back. She counts her steps with a deliberate concentration and remembers where in the winding hallway he’s leading her.

_ Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine. Three hundred. Left turn. One. Two. Three. _

The Enchanters all live on one of the upper floors in the Gallows, on the east side facing the Waking Sea and away from Kirkwall proper. They’re packed in two to a room--the templars wouldn’t want them getting any ideas about  _ privacy _ , now would they?--and Rose’s roommate is reclining on the bed with a book when Orsino knocks on the open door.

“Enchanter Moss, this is Enchanter Wedgwood.” Rose looks from Orsino over to Moss, and forces a hopeful smile to her lips. The mage who will hopefully be her first friend in Kirkwall is an elf with dark skin and darker eyes, and after just a moment she smiles back at Rose.

“Nice to meet you, Wedgwood,” she says, Starkhaven accent making Rose’s smile grow. “I’m Megan.”

Rose’s clutches her bag tighter as Orsino continues with the introductions.

“You two are both studying the healing arts, so you should be able to help each other,” Orsino says, then glances over his shoulder at something the girls can’t see. He turns back to them with a frown. “I… will see you both. You know where I am if you have need of me. Moss, please help her with anything she needs.”

Orsino slips away, and Rose walks slowly into the room to sit on the bed across from Megan’s. She keeps her bag in her lap, uncertainty written across her sun-reddened face, and Megan quirks an eyebrow.

“So, Wedgwood,” she begins, closing the book she’d been reading to devote her full attention to Rose. “What did they send you here for? Were you fucking a templar?”

Rose visibly starts at the question, surprise making her mouth drop open. She starts to sputter through a denial, then covers her face with her hands. She takes a deep breath, reminds herself  _ to make a good impression, _ and tries again.

“I wasn’t f-f…  no, no templars,” she manages. “It was come here or be made tranquil. They thought… they thought I didn’t have enough control over my emotions after everything that happened and a  _ new start  _ would help.”

“What happened, then?” Megan’s voice is gently curious, but Rose’s face heats anyway.

“It… was a few years ago, but it’s hard to forget.” Rose’s voice sounds small, and her shoulders start to slump down as her body folds in on itself. “My Circle fell during the Blight. To… to blood mages. I wasn’t one of them!” she adds this quickly when Megan’s encouraging expression shifts to one of alarm. “I wasn’t. They killed all of the blood mages. But… it’s just hard to forget that happened, you know? I’m… I’m hoping that Kirkwall will be better.”

Megan’s grin grows and she shakes her head. “Welcome to the Gallows, then, Rose. You’ll do just fine here.”

**INTERLUDE: CULLEN**

He’s barely spent any time in the Gallows since he arrived in Kirkwall. Being trapped on the island makes him feel nauseous, like his heart is going to pound out of his chest or like he’s going to claw his skin off. He can’t handle it, and he takes every opportunity to go to Kirkwall proper or to the Wounded Coast to track down apostates and escaped mages.

He’s good at tracking them. He’s good at finding them and, sometimes, bringing them back to the Circle without them turning to blood magic or becoming abominations.

He’s  _ not  _ good at standing still inside the Gallows, watching the mages scurry around him, trying to avoid eye contact or gathering attention. He isn’t good at looking at the lists of mages waiting to become tranquil. He isn’t good at remembering that he’s no longer at Kinloch or that Sophie isn’t going to return for him, not ever.

He’s no longer a good templar. He is no longer a good man.

**9:34**

Kirkwall is  _ certainly  _ a new start, but it isn't the one Rose was looking for. The templars do headcounts and bed checks, counting the mages constantly to make sure they're all where they should be. She wakes up in the night to templars poking their heads in the room to make sure she and Megan are in their own beds, alone.

She's always being watched. It gets under her skin, makes her feel trapped even she's in the Gallows’ little garden, staring up at the sky. She feels anxiety constantly churning in her chest and in her stomach, keeping her awake, making it hard to keep food down when she can eat it at all.

It's worse than it was in Kinloch. She wanted out of there because the memories made it hard for her to function. She either slept too much to avoid the memories, or she barely slept at all to avoid the temptation of demons in the Fade. She cried too much in Kinloch, and that attracted the attention of Irving and Greagoir. It spurred them to ask if she wanted to be made tranquil, but she said she just wanted to go to another Circle. Any other Circle.

And they sent her to the Gallows because they needed the talent and they were the closest Circle that would take her.

And now… now she wishes they never sent her anywhere other than out of the barred window in Greagoir’s office and into the lake below.

The only time she feels almost normal is when she's working as a healer. There isn't a lot of need to actually heal mages in the Circle, and the templars won’t let her work magic at all unless she’s supervised by one of them, but they let her work with the younger apprentices and they let her work with the tranquil sometimes to make poultices and healing potions that the templars use.

She stays out of sight of the templars as much as she can. She learns to fade into the background wherever they are, never drawing attention to herself, never doing anything that might catch their eye. She knows what happens to mages who catch the eye of a templar, especially here.

This, too, is different than Kinloch. She knew Cullen was in a relationship with Sophie Amell. Everyone knew. But… it wasn't like it is here in Kirkwall. No Kirkwall templar ever falls in love with a mage. No mages fall in love with a templar.

Favors may be traded for privileges. They may be taken, forcibly. But they are never given out of  _ love. _

There is no love in the Gallows, but she needs it to live.

\---

Mages keep disappearing from the Circle. Sometimes, rarely, they reappear with the Brand on their forehead. More often, they're simply never heard from again.

_ Blood mages  _ they whisper. It's always blood magic. At first, each rumor makes Rose terrified, unable to eat or sleep for fear that the Gallows will fall with her inside of it.

It never does.

Are the mages truly blood mages? Are the templars spiriting them away? Are they being transferred to other Circles?

It's this last idea that makes Rose feel something blooming in her chest again. It feels warm, like when she’s able to stand in the sun.

It’s… it’s hope.

Maybe she can go back to Ferelden. Or over to Rivain; they have a large circle too. Starkhaven isn't an option. Orlais certainly isn't either.

She makes up her mind to speak with Orsino. Perhaps he will have something to say that can help. He should be able to talk to Knight-Commander Meredith for her, shouldn't he? He'll know which of the templars can be trusted.

Then the Qunari invade, and her plan is forgotten under the ash that rains from the sky. Fires rage throughout the city, and the templars are called to leave the Gallows to give aid to a city in trouble.

Rose doesn't sleep. None of the mages do, though they're still confined to their rooms. She and Megan sit together on her bed, blankets wrapped around them in a nest, hands clasped.

Neither woman prays. The Maker has never listened to them before, and he surely won't start now.

When the Arishok is killed in single combat and the winner named the Champion of Kirkwall, the Qunari flee. They abandon the city that they almost razed, and the citizens are left to pick up the pieces.

Ser Thrask appears at Rose and Megan’s door, frowns when he sees the women huddled together, but he holds his hand out anyway. 

“Enchanter Wedgwood,” he says. “Come with me.”

Rose freezes immediately, eyes going wide. Megan’s grip tightens on her hand.

“Why?” Megan’s hard question is out of line for a mage, but Thrask doesn't get angry. He rarely does.

“We need healers in the city. You're the strongest we have.” He doesn't say please, but he doesn't command her again either. He doesn't rip her from her bed and drag her from the Gallows like another templar might.

She goes willingly.

The streets of Kirkwall are in chaos. She's never seen them before this moment, and now they're covered in ash and rubble, fires still burning all around her. She can see half-charred corpses, people still lying where they were when their world was ripped apart, and Rose has to stop twice to be sick.

Thrask waits patiently for her each time, a look of sympathy on his lined face, but he still leads her through the maze of chaos to the Viscount’s hall, his hand on his sword.

There are city soldiers here as well as templars. Many are strangers to her, most are injured, but Thrask leads her straight to where Meredith is standing with a few templars, an elf with curling white tattoos, and a man with tangled black hair and a swipe of…  _ is that blood? _

Meredith turns and her steely blue gaze pierces through Rose, pinning her in place.

“I found Enchanter Wedgwood,” Thrask says, gripping Rose’s arm and pushing her forward.

She can't look away from the Knight-Commander.

“Very well. Begin by healing the Champion and then the templars.” Meredith finally looks away, and Rose’s legs begin to work again.

The man who’s now the Champion offers her a wobbly smile, his eyes raking over her gaunt figure, and she steps to his side.

“Where are you injured, Ser?  _ Messere _ ?” She corrects the title with a panicked grimace, wringing her hands together.

The Champion sighs. “You can just call me Hawke. Everyone does.” His Fereldan accent surprises her, brings a smile to her face, and he mimics her expression. “I'm mostly healed, but my side hurts just here.”

Rose nods and places one small hand where he gestured. “Are you Ser Carver’s brother?” She lets a small spell flow from her palm into his side, checking for internal injuries to his organs before finding cracked ribs.

Hawke’s grin grows a little. “You know baby brother?”

Rose releases a breathy laugh before she can help it. “Yes. He… is kind to us.”

A second spell begins to knit the broken bones, and Hawke’s hissing breath ends their conversation.

She turns to offer her spells to the elf by his side, but the man has already disappeared into the night.

Hawke glances over her shoulder, then meets her eyes again. “I think the Knight-Captain needs your attention next.”

Rose turns as Hawke disappears too, and once more she finds herself pinned in place.

_ Ser Cullen. _

He looks just as surprised as she feels, both of them frozen where they stand. A droplet of blood falls from his split lip and lands on his breastplate, and it's this smear of red on steel that pushes her into action.

Her hands are trembling almost beyond use as she closes the distance between them, but she lifts her chin to meet his gaze. “Ser Cullen,” she greets, and she’s so, so proud of her voice for not wavering. “May I heal your… cut?”

“I… there are others who need it more.” Even as he speaks, another drop of blood falls.

Rose frowns. She can still hear him railing against her in Kinloch, but now he’s hurt again and this time she can help. “Are you sure?” she presses, voice dropping as she takes a step closer. He doesn't back away, eyes dropping to where her hands are shaking hard enough to give her away, then back up to her eyes. “Mouth wounds are likely to fester.”

Cullen clearly hesitates, but again he shakes his head. “It is… no. I will be fine.”

Rose chews on the inside of her lip and nods at him then pulls a handkerchief out of her sleeve. She holds it out to him, and when he doesn't take it immediately, she shakes it at him with a degree of impatience. “Stop the bleeding at least.”

Cullen reaches out and takes it, careful to make sure their fingers do not touch. She waits long enough to ensure he presses it to his wound before she turns away to find another of her captors that she can heal.

**INTERLUDE: CULLEN**

He watches Rose flit from wounded soldier to wounded soldier, not flinching from the worst of the wounds even on the templars. She even tried to care for him, though his wound isn't even serious enough to warrant a healing potion. 

He remembers her clearly, Kinloch still fresh in his mind from the almost nightly dreams that sometimes feature her face as a blood mage to be struck down. She's older now, her face grim and gaunt, but she moves with confidence he didn't expect to see from any mage, but especially not one in the Gallows.

Thrask shadows her, always nearby in case she gets it into her head to run or accept a demon. She doesn't; she just heals and heals and heals until Thrask is pushing a lyrium potion at her to keep her from falling.

When Cullen’s lip is finished bleeding, he gingerly pulls her handkerchief from his face and examines it. There's nothing special about it--it's the standard issue square of white fabric that all mages carry, now stained red, but in a tiny act of rebellion she's added a few little embroidered roses to one corner.

It makes him smile, though as pain blooms across his lip he regrets it. He tucks the ruined scrap of fabric into his armor and tries to shake the confusingly  _ warm  _ feeling that's creeping into his chest. 

That's exactly what caused so much trouble in Kinloch, templars feeling too fond of their charges and growing too lax with them. 

The scent of blood on his skin just reminds him of the blood mages in the tower, of the death of all of his friends, and it becomes easier to forget Rose as she obediently follows Thrask back to the Circle.

**9:35**

Rose is dragged from a sound sleep by Megan’s frantic hands on her shoulders. She flails out with her fists, catching the elf on the face with one fist before she realizes what's happening.

“I need you to come with me,” she hisses, already forgiving the little injury in the face of whatever emergency has inspired her to leave her bed in the middle of the night even under threat of punishment from the templars who do the bed checks. “Come  _ on. _ ”

She grabs Rose’s hand and pulls, and Rose can’t remember why she should protest as Megan leads her from their room and down the hall, bare feet silent on the cold stone floor of the Gallows. As Rose wakes more, her heart sticks in her throat at the idea that templars might catch them sneaking from room to room.

Even being awake in the middle of the night is sometimes enough to catch a punishment. More than one mage sneaking into another room? They could be accused of being maleficars, of conspiring to bring down the Circle. The punishment for that… 

She starts to pull away to go back, but Megan tightens her fingers on Rose’s hand and refuses to release her until they’re slipping through the door of another room. Rose closes it tight behind her and leans against it, trying to catch her breath until she realizes what Megan has dragged her from her bed to see.

One of the other enchanters is sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, with her roommate sitting by her side. Weak healing spells are pouring from her, but she looks exhausted, and Rose drops to her knees in front of the women without thinking about it.

“Clove? Clove?” Rose reaches for her face, smoothing hair away from blood that’s congealing around her mouth and across her temple. “Can you talk? What happened?” Rose directs her second question to Clove’s roommate Aria, darting her eyes over to the small woman hovering by her side with tears streaming down her face.

Aria doesn’t answer as Rose starts to heal, her magic so much stronger. The cuts on Clove’s head knit back together, the cartilage in her nose straightening and repairing under Rose’s guiding fingers, and the fractured bones mend themselves.

It’s all Rose can do not to scream at the sight or be sick as the scent of blood fills her nose and images from the Qunari invasion and Kinloch play behind her eyes.

“It was Alrik,” Aria finally whispers. Clove’s whimpers died down after Rose’s last spell, but they become louder at Aria’s confession. “It  _ must  _ have been. He’s been… he’s been  _ harassing  _ her for weeks, trying to get her to  _ go  _ with him, and she wouldn’t.”

Clove leans into Aria’s embrace, tears coming faster, and Rose scrubs at her forehead with her knuckles.

“We have to do something about him,” Megan snaps, voice trembling with anger but no louder than before. “He’s getting worse.”

Rose has seen Ser Alrik with the other mages. She’s seen the way he looks at them, the way he watches them. It isn’t the same way Thrask or Carver watch them, with genuine concern if with some wariness. It’s hard, cold,  _ possessive.  _ Rose always finds somewhere else to be when Alrik is around, but not every mage is so lucky.

She takes Clove’s hand and squeezes her fingers. 

Many mages aren’t so lucky.

She and Megan creep back to their room, and they’ve barely been under the covers for twenty minutes when the door swings open and a templar checks to make sure they’re asleep.

Rose stays awake until the sun begins to peek through their narrow window, lighting the room with hues of pink and gold, and then she drags herself through the Gallows to speak to Orsino.

\---

The First Enchanter is of little help, though Rose isn’t surprised. He’s never been able to help the mages, and as the templars become more and more controlling, he seems less able to do anything.

“I’d need to speak with this mage,” he said. “She would need to tell me herself that Alrik attacked her, otherwise Meredith will not believe us.” When Rose scowled at him, color rising to her cheeks, he tried again. “There have been false reports in the past. She wants to be--”

“Who would file a  _ false report  _ on a templar?” Rose demands, hands on her hips and fury coursing through her body. “There is no way.”

Orsino just shakes his head and sighs, and even through her fury Rose can see the exhaustion plain on his face. How many complaints does he deal with every day? How often must he argue with the Knight-Commander only to have everything thrown back in his face?

Rose’s fury just grows. Orsino’s weakness is becoming Rose’s problem. It’s already Clove’s problem, and Maker knows how long it went on before Rose found out about it.

She takes a slow breath as thoughts run through her brain, but each one catches on her tongue before she can speak. She turns away from Orsino and, in the only act of defiance she can manage, slams his office door.

She finds Ser Carver next, at his usual post near the library. He eyes her a little warily, but he smiles--just a little--instead of pulling away. 

“Enchanter Wedgwood,” he says, and she sighs in relief. He always greets her so politely, not like he’s afraid of her. “Do you need something?”

She nods, once, then glances around them. They’re alone, for now, but she still takes a step closer and lowers her voice. “One of the mages was attacked last night.”

Carver’s back straightens and his jaw sets into a hard line. Rose flinches away from him as he moves, but it’s just to face her more fully. “What happened? Are… are  _ you  _ alright?”

His concern makes her blush a little. “It wasn’t me, so yes.” She pauses, almost reconsiders, and then continues despite the gnawing doubt. “You’re always kind to us, Ser Carver. Kinder than most. You… would protect us from… from a t-templar who, who  _ attacks  _ one of us without cause?”

She dances around the issue with her words, but the way Carver’s face pales lets her know he understands.

“Who was it?”

“I don’t want to tell you her name.” Rose sets her jaw and clenches her fists, but Carver shakes his head.

“The templar.”

Rose glances around again. “Alrik.”

Carver sighs heavily, his nostrils flaring, and he looks around too before speaking again. “Come with me.”

He turns without waiting for her answer and leads her through the Gallows to the templar’s side of the outpost. She trails along behind him, trying to keep her jaw from clenching, her eyes from widening too much, or her hands from fisting at her sides. There are so few mages here, and she feels exposed. Threatened.

Carver knocks on one of the first doors they come to and pushes open without waiting for a reply. Rose’s feet freeze before she steps into the room, watching as Carver stops in front of Cullen’s desk to salute the knight-captain.

Cullen looks at Carver before his eyes snap to Rose’s, and he lurches to his feet. Rose takes a step back, but when Carver turns around to acknowledge her, she finds herself stepping forward until she’s by his side.

She hasn’t seen Cullen since the day of the Qunari invasion the year before. He’s never in the Gallows with the other mages; he must always be in his office, or… she’s heard about him hunting down apostates himself in Kirkwall and on the Wounded Coast. Maybe he’s just never on their little island.

The cut on his lip, the one he wouldn’t let her heal, has turned into a thin white scar that reaches up across his cheek. When he smiles at her, it pulls his mouth into a crooked smirk that makes her traitorous heart skip a beat like it always had in Kinloch.

She pushes that feeling aside, forcing herself to picture Clove collapsed on her bedroom floor as Carver repeats their earlier conversation.

“Does she need healing?” Cullen asks, and Rose darts a glance between him and Carver before she narrows her eyes and shakes her head. Cullen nods, clearly understanding that  _ someone  _ has used magic without the supervision of a templar, but he overlooks it. “Have you spoken with anyone else? The First Enchanter?”

Rose’s nostrils flare. “He didn’t want to take a  _ false report. _ ”

Cullen and Carver exchange another meaningful glance before Cullen turns back to Rose. “I would, obviously, prefer to hear from the…” he hesitates, finishes: “from the other mage? But this isn’t the first complaint I have heard on Ser Alrik. I’ll have him assigned elsewhere.”

“He hurt someone else?” Rose demands, and she can’t bring herself to worry that she’s raised her voice at the knight-captain. “You could have stopped him before he hurt my friend!”

Carver gazes at his feet and Cullen turns red before speaking. “The… other complaints were of a… different nature.” Rose narrows her eyes at his hesitations and drags in deep, steadying breaths. “Had I thought he would…” he sighs and covers his eyes with one gloved hand, allowing himself a moment of weakness before Rose and Carver. “For what it is worth, I am sorry. If you have further worries for your safety, please come to me rather than the First Enchanter. I will… we will take care of you.”

Rose feels her anger fading, and she huffs out a breath before nodding. “Thank you, Ser Cullen,” she says, and she slips out of his office before he has time to say anything else.

\---

“What did you do?”

Rose looks across the little room to Megan lounging on the other bed, hair spilling over the side and almost to the floor. “What do you mean?”

Megan rolls over to sit up, glancing out the open door into the dark and silent corridor beyond. “You look like you’ve been up to something.” When Rose doesn’t respond right away, Megan tries again. “I’ve known you for three years. You look guilty.”

Rose fiddles with the pages of her book. “I spoke to Carver and Cullen about Clove.” She looks up at Megan from under her eyebrows and winces when she sees Megan’s eyes wide and mouth open. “I didn’t give them her name. But I had to do something about Alrik. I couldn’t sit by and wait until he kills someone. He’s already made dozens of mages tranquil since I’ve been here, and I don’t even know what he was up to when I was still in Ferelden.”

Her voice lowers the angrier she becomes, a habit picked up since she moved into the Gallows where any emotion is cause for suspicion. She hisses out the last words, face red, and Megan snaps her jaw shut with a quick nod.

“Are they going to do anything?”

Rose chews on her lower lip. “I don’t think Carver can. Cullen said he would reassign Alrik, but that won’t do any good if Meredith wants him to stay.”

“And just what makes you think Meredith’s  _ pet _ is going to do anything about Alrik?”

“He was at my Circle in Ferelden,” Rose snaps. “He’s rightfully suspicious of blood mages, but he was never cruel. He hasn’t been cruel to us, either. I don’t think he wants us to be in pain.”

Megan just rolls her eyes and moves to get under her covers. “I’ve  _ seen  _ him make mages tranquil. He’s a templar, Rose. You can’t trust the templars.”

**INTERLUDE: CULLEN**

As Rose and Carver disappear from his office, Cullen pulls her handkerchief out of one of his drawers. The blood stain is not entirely gone, but it is faded, marring the center but leaving the little embroidered roses safe and clear in the corner.

He runs his gloved thumb over the thread, a familiar, sick feeling in his stomach. He feels it whenever he thinks about the mages who have been beaten or attacked, who have come to him for help when he has to turn them away, when he remembers the hurt look that overtakes Rose’s face whenever she sees him in the Gallows.

He has failed as a templar so many times since he arrived in Kinloch all those years ago. He let down the Maker, his Commander, his charges,  _ himself, _ over and over, and he doesn’t know what else he can do but try to make better choices, better decisions.

And it’s going to start with finding out why Alrik still has access to the mages in the Gallows. Perhaps he should be sent out to track down apostates in the city…

**9:36**

There are fewer mages here than there used to be. It took a long time for Rose to notice, but she’s started counting. She counts the mages in the library, the mages in her classes, the mages in the many lines she stands in throughout the day.

She keeps tallies in her all but abandoned grimoire, dusty and ignored under her bed. The numbers fluctuate, but they steadily grow smaller.

The number of tranquil, though… She doesn’t know all of the mages by name. She doesn’t even know all of them by sight, not even after so many years in the Gallows, but sometimes she sees a new tranquil that she recognizes. And their numbers are increasing.

Fewer mages to watch over, more tranquil to work without complaining, more potions and runes to sell.

It all works out better for the templars, doesn’t it. This is what Alrik wanted all those months ago. This is why he fought so hard to get some of the mages turned tranquil, the ones who wouldn’t do what he demanded of them.

Clove was almost one of them. Alrik had written up the request before Hawke finally put him down.

Carver’s eyes are tired when Rose approaches him once more. He knows. Of course he knows. All of the templars and all of the mages know, but no one has made a study of it. No one else has written down their names and the dates and the number of new tranquil that appear each week.

He takes the scrap of paper away from her, though it isn’t her only copy, and takes it to Cullen who takes it with a haggard expression.

He knows, too.

He reads the list in Rose’s careful, precise handwriting, and rubs his gloved hand over his face. 

Meredith is driving this Circle into the ground. He can feel it. Something big is going to happen, and soon, and it’s going to light the gaatlok barrel that the Circle has become, and all of the mages and all of the templars are going to be caught up in it -- and that’s the best case scenario if it doesn’t spill over into Kirkwall too.

Especially if the mages are paying this close attention to what’s happening. But… why wouldn’t they? Why wouldn’t they want to take care of their own? Cullen certainly wants to protect the templars under his command, wants to keep them safe from maleficars  _ and  _ Meredith both.

He asks Carver to bring Rose to him, and Carver obeys without a word.

She looks terrified when she steps into his office, and she jumps when Carver closes the door behind her, leaving her alone with Cullen. She stands with her hands fisted at her sides, her back straight, as close to the door as she can be without pressing up against the hard wood.

Cullen sits behind his desk, gauntlets off for writing, and gestures for her to sit.

She obeys, jaw tight and lips pressed into a firm line. The bags under her eyes are dark and there’s a light bruise on her cheekbone that can only be from a blow to the face. She hasn’t been sleeping, and the sharp jut of her cheek and collarbones make him worried for how thin she is. This is more than losing baby weight as she grows into her twenties; she isn’t eating.

“Carver gave me your records,” he says, not knowing where else to start. She turns pink, but her expression doesn’t change. “You are… very observant.”

Her nose wrinkles in the tiniest of snarls. “I have little else to do.”

That’s fair. He’s seen her file, the notes from the other templars and Orsino, what little the First Enchanter has been able to keep together with everything else going on. She’s a good healer, very skilled -- if he’s let her fix his lip those years ago, he wouldn’t have this scar -- and she’s good with the younger mages. But other than hours spent in classes or in the library, mages really have little to do.

That’s part of the problem.

When he doesn’t immediately respond, she speaks again. Her voice is firm, though he can see her twisting the fabric of her loose robe in her fingers, the little tremble of her lips. “What do you intend to do to me?”

He blinks back at her. “What?”

“I haven’t done anything wrong. I  _ haven’t.  _ Not once the whole time I’ve been here.” Her voice cracks and her eyes well with tears, but she doesn’t let them fall. She bites her lower lip, hard, instead.

“Who did that to you?” he asks instead of answering her question, lifting a hand to point at his own cheekbone to indicate her bruise. Though he doesn’t move toward her at all, she still flinches as though afraid of being struck.

“Paxley.” She purposefully leaves off the  _ ser.  _ “I ‘looked at him funny’.” She pauses and her nose wrinkles again. “He had a crumb in his mustache.”

“Did you report it?” Cullen asks, anger rising in his chest.

Rose laughs, but it’s an angry noise. “To who? I can’t exactly walk into the templar side of the Gallows whenever I want. Orsino is too busy for a mage who isn’t in mortal peril. I only see Ser Carver once a week.” She runs her fingers across the bruise, testing it. Her fingernails are bitten to the quick, red but not bloody. “I’m not even allowed to heal it.”

Cullen rubs at the back of his neck, massaging at the tension building there. “You can heal it now.”

She hesitates, gaze pinning him in place behind the desk. Then she nods, once, and sighs softly as soft blue light moves from her raised hand into her skin. When the light disappears, the bruise is gone, and the skin around the fingernails of that hand look less red too.

Silence reigns between them. Rose seems disinclined to break it, preferring to meet Cullen’s gaze with her own steelier one.

“I will look into this,” he says, speaking slowly, but Rose doesn’t react. “I won’t name you.”

She nods again and watches as he rubs at the back of his neck again. “Do you want me to heal you?” He freezes, hand still betraying his discomfort. “You can trust me.”

“I…” he starts to decline, then changes his mind. “Yes.”

She stands and walks around the desk to hover next to him. He keeps his eyes on her, but she doesn’t make any sudden movements, and warns him before she places one small hand on the back of his neck. Her skin is cold, and he fights back the shiver that her touch inspires, then melts under her attention but successfully bites back the moan that bubbles in his chest.

The tension in his neck and shoulders disappears, the pain leaving him under the warmth of her spell, and when he opens his eyes again --  _ when had he closed them?  _ \-- she’s back on her side of the desk, safely out of his reach.

“Thank you,” he says, voice quiet, unable to move with the relief.

She inclines her head. “Am I dismissed?”

He nods, and she turns to walk to his door. When her fingers close on the handle, he finds his voice again. “Rose… you can trust me, as well.”

She turns slightly, looking over her shoulder at him. Her jaw is set again, eyes bright with challenge. “Prove it,” she says, and then disappears through the door.

**INTERLUDE: CULLEN**

When the door clicks closed behind Rose, Cullen buries his face in his hands.  The only person higher in command than him is Meredith, and she’s already suspicious that he’s growing soft. But it isn’t his stance that’s changing--it’s hers. She’s growing harsher by the day, approving tranquil requests without question, and he doesn’t know what to do.

If Meredith won’t listen, someone else must. One of Meredith’s supervisors in the White Spire, or Divine Justinia herself. 

Before outside intervention arrives, the mages in the Gallows need protection. They need protection from themselves, yes, but from the  _ templars _ .

Maker protect them all.

**9:36**

Rose’s promotion to senior enchanter comes as a surprise, but she doesn’t argue with the tired look in Orsino’s eyes. One of the old senior enchanters fell to blood magic and was slain while escaping, and Rose inherits his room but none of his possessions. The room was stripped clean, searched, and scoured clean before any other mage was allowed to step into its tiny confines.

She doesn’t have a roommate, and the thought makes her as nervous as it makes her happy. There will be no witness if a templar decides to visit her, but there will also be nobody to bother her as she tries to rest.

Paxley disappears and Carver begins to work inside the Gallows more. He looks at the mages with sympathy instead of scorn, and he always has a little smile for Rose whenever she stops by.

The number of mages disappearing slows, though Rose still keeps track. As senior enchanter, she has access to more records now, more information, and she hoards it like a dragon with gold coins. Information is more valuable in a Circle, and she wants as much of it as possible.

The other enchanters and apprentices look to her for guidance when things with the templars get too bad. Some things can’t be stopped, but violence can be corrected. She heals what she can, and when they can find Carver to supervise, she heals completely.

Tensions are still high. When Meredith comes into the Gallows, everyone falls silent--even the templars. The templars she favors are promoted, given privileges, and she doesn’t care when they take advantage of the mages  _ or  _ the tranquil.

She might even encourage it.

Rose takes that hatred and holds it tight in her heart. It helps her rise in the mornings when all she wants to do is sleep, it keeps her feet on the ground when all she wants to do is climb to the top of the tower and fling herself into the ocean, it keeps a smile on her face when she speaks with apprentices too afraid to stop crying.

It keeps her going, but it eats her alive.

**9:37**

They feet the explosion before they hear it, a rumbling under their feet that shakes the walls of the Gallows. Every mage not in confinement rushes to the thin windows, struggling to see.

The sky is awash in light for several seconds before the black of night returns. Rose’s gut rolls as the templars all rush from the common room, following shouts of those in the courtyard. She stands up as straight as she can and looks for Orsino or one of the other senior enchanters… but there are none.

She turns her gaze to the mages that remain. They all stare back at her, eyes wide. Some are crying openly, others have reached to each other to hold on for comfort.

Whatever has happened can _ not _ be good.

\---

They are going to annul the Circle. Panic erupts and the mages  _ scatter,  _ screaming, some going for the doors to escape while others flee deeper into the tower. Others--like Megan, Clove, and Aria--turn to Rose.

She steels herself. This is like Kinloch--but she’s older now, stronger. She’s had time to learn and grow. And if her last Circle falling taught her anything, it’s that saving mages is more important than anything else. They can join the bulk of the battle or they can barricade themselves higher up, like she had once in the Harrowing Chamber, and fight the templars one or two at a time.

The farther away from the fighting they are, the fewer templars  _ and  _ the fewer demons they will have to defend against at once.

“We need to climb as high as we can and barricade ourselves into the farthest room we can find. If  _ any  _ of you turn to blood magic and become abominations, I will put you down myself.”

They all nod at her, eyes wide, and she turns to lead them up the tower’s winding stairs. They stop by Orsino’s room first, digging through his drawers and cupboards until they find the only thing that could be used as a weapon--a letter opener.

Rose keeps that for herself, and her little group continues climbing until they reach the top floor.

They can’t hear the fighting on the lower floors yet, but it’s coming to them. They move into one of the rooms and push the furniture in front of the door. There’s no lock. There’s never been a lock.

The mages huddle together, Rose with Orsino’s letter opener clutched in her hands, and wait. Some of the girls pray, but Rose remains silent. She hasn’t prayed in six years.

Shouts and the clang of steel against steel slowly become clear, then louder, as the templars move their way up the tower. 

Then all becomes quiet again.

“We should check,” Aria murmurs.

Megan swats her arm. “And, what? Walk right into a group of them waiting to kill us?”

Rose hushes them both. “I’ll go see. Stay here.” She tucks the knife into her robes and stands, helping to push the furniture back out of the way. She slips through the gap once it’s big enough, and tiptoes down the hall toward the back stairs.

Her footsteps are silent, though she’s sure any templars nearby would hear her heart thundering in her chest. It’s making her vision white around the edges, dizziness threatening to overwhelm her, but she tightens her fists and pushes on.

They’re counting on her, and she won’t let them down.

The farther down she climbs, the more bodies she sees. templars and mages alike litter the floor in pools of their own blood, though not as many as she expected.

The fighting is still quiet, and she dares leave the mage’s half of the tower to see what in the Void is going on.

The courtyard is in chaos. There are templars fighting a figure that’s… glowing red? But it has a familiar circlet over ice blonde hair, and Rose’s mouth gapes open as she stares.

It’s Meredith.

The templars are fighting  _ Meredith _ .

Hawke is there, his bladed staff spinning in his hands, and Rose can just make out some of his friends. They’re not in uniform, standing out from the rest of the fighters, and Rose tries to see if Carver or Cullen are still alive.

She can’t see who individual templars are, so she leaves them. She returns to the Gallows, turning her back on the fighting, and moves to collect the surviving mages.

There aren’t many. She finds them hiding in locked rooms, under furniture, overlooked by templars fighting each other rather than annulling the Circle. She coaxes them all out into the open, sets them to start cleaning, and then moves on.

Megan is in tears by the time Rose makes it back to the top of the tower, and she throws her arms around her friend right away.

“The templars turned on Meredith,” Rose says, raising her voice to be heard over the elf’s sobs. “They’re in the courtyard. The surviving mages are downstairs.”

“What’s your plan, here?” Clove demands, hands on her hips. “Gather everyone up to wait until they come back to finish the job?”

Rose levels Clove with her best Senior Enchanter stare. “I plan on healing everyone I can. The templars didn’t try to annul the Circle. They fought the blood mages and abominations. If you come downstairs, you’ll see for yourself. Once everyone is better, we can talk to the Knight-Captain about this.”

“He’s going to  _ kill  _ us,” Clove objects again.

Megan pulls herself away and wipes at her eyes. She glares at Clove too. “Stay up here, then.” She doesn’t wait for Clove’s reply, instead turning to march down the hall.

Rose follows, and the girls link hands as they walk. The other mages follow behind, Clove included, and when they reach the bottom level, they start cleaning too, moving bodies away to be burned later.

And then they wait, whispering quietly to each other and telling stories. Those who can remember their families, or those who came from other Circles, talk about where they came from, sharing memories long buried. 

The battle outside gains intensity, then abruptly falls silent. The mages do too, the whole room suddenly holding its breath.

When the doors creak open, two men stand alone. Neither man holds his sword, though they’re both armed, and both have lost their helmets.

Rose steps forward, bridging the distance between her group of mages and the two templars. They walk toward her slowly until she holds out one hand, palm toward them. Her voice is steady when she says, “Stop.”

A barrier shimmers to life, surrounding her and separating her charges from the templars. 

They obey. Cullen crosses his arms, and Carver scowls.

“We have no blood mages or abominations among us. Just apprentices and enchanters. We will not be annulled.”

Cullen smiles at her,  _ actually smiles,  _ though it’s small and shows his exhaustion. He doesn’t move.

It’s Carver who speaks, glancing at Cullen before opening his mouth. “The Rite of Annulment has been revoked, by order of the new Knight-Commander. Non-maleficars will be spared.”

Rose blinks hard, then lowers her hand. The barrier stays in place. “Knight-Commander… Cullen?”

His smile grows lopsided. “Pleasure to meet you… First Enchanter.”

**INTERLUDE: CULLEN**

The Champion isn’t fighting on their side. Not that Cullen expected him to, exactly… he should have known that Gavin Hawke, apostate mage, would not help Meredith annul the Circle. Even with Carver Hawke a templar… Gavin wouldn’t turn against his own kind.

Cullen isn’t surprised by the reaction of Hawke or the city. Aveline is the captain of the city guard, but she orders her people to protect the citizens, not help the templars. Fenris, the elf that is always by Hawke’s side, fights with the templars, but only until they arrive at the Gallows and meet Hawke again.

The mages on the lower level of the Gallows and the ones who chose to fight in the courtyard have all been Annulled, but there are more inside that could come attack. Cullen can see their bodies laying wherever they fell, surrounded by templar bodies.

He recognizes the robes they wear--so many apprentices, too young to really fight, enchanters who tried to protect them, senior enchanters… he stops and counts the red robes that he sees, the ones that signify their rank. Are all senior enchanters dead?

There should be five, but he only counts four red robes from where he’s standing, and none look like they belong to  _ her.  _ She may yet be alive, inside the Gallows somewhere, surviving by stubborn will as she had all those years ago, now the mage with the highest rank.

This feels wrong. These mages… they haven’t done anything. They had nothing to do with Anders’ attack on the Chantry. They’ve been too quiet and afraid to do anything against the templars, and Meredith should  _ know  _ that. She should  _ see. _

She can’t.

Cullen’s tenuous loyalty snaps when Meredith demands Hawke’s life, his attention immediately on his Knight-Commander rather than on the death that surrounds him. 

Again. He isn’t surprised.

He is surprised that Meredith has a sword made of red lyrium, and he’s surprised that she’s about to use it to control the statues that surrounded the Gallows courtyard. 

This is a fight for his life, yes, but also for the lives of his fellow templars, for the lives of Hawke and his companions, and for the remaining mages, and for her. For Rose.

He let these mages down so many times. He will not let them down again.

When the battle is over, and Meredith is simply a statue of red lyrium that sings like the blue but  _ wrong,  _ he calls the templars to heel and lets Hawke and his friends escape. He is the highest ranking officer now, at least until the White Spire sends someone to replace Meredith.

Carver approaches, armor dented and face bloody, but mostly unharmed. “Knight-Commander?”

It takes Cullen a moment to realize that Carver is speaking to him.

He takes a deep breath and sheathes his sword. “The Rite of Annulment has been revoked,” he says, loudly enough so that all can hear. “No more mages are to be executed.”

He waits and looks each templar in the eye so that they all accept his order, then he turns back to Carver. 

“Come with me.”

Carver nods and sheathes his sword as well. Cullen knows the mages trust Carver, at least as much as any of them can trust a templar. Though Cullen once thought Carver was too soft on them, now he understands.

The door to the mage’s side of the Gallows is unlocked and unbarred, and he steps through without resistance.

As soon as he does, a mage leaps up from the huddled group and plants herself firmly between the intruders and her friends.

He sees the red robes before he sees her face, and he can’t help the small sigh of relief that escapes him.

She raises one hand and holds it out to them, palm out. “Stop,” she orders, voice strong and free of tears. So different from the last they met after the fall of a Circle. A barrier comes up between her and them, and Cullen feels Carver tense automatically.

Cullen simply crosses his arms to wait to see what she has to say.

Rose continues: “We have no blood mages or abominations among us. Just apprentices and enchanters. We will not be annulled.”

Cullen smiles at her and nods once, though he can’t find his tongue to speak.

Carver does finally, glancing at Cullen for permission before opening his mouth. “The Rite of Annulment has been revoked, by order of the new Knight-Commander. Non-maleficars will be spared.”

Rose blinks hard, then lowers her hand, but keeps the barrier shimmering strongly between them. “Knight-Commander… Cullen?” she asks, voice suddenly small and hesitant.

They have both stumbled into positions of power, just by virtue of not dying. His smile grows. “Pleasure to meet you… First Enchanter.”

The barrier drops and the mages behind her murmur. “ _ What _ ?”

“Orsino is dead,” Cullen explains. “He turned to blood magic and Hawke killed him. The other senior enchanters are dead as well.”

Rose’s nose scrunches up as she thinks, then she controls her face and puts her hands on her hips. “My mages have only defended themselves today. They will  _ not  _ be punished or harassed.”

“Of course,” Cullen agrees, not hesitating.

“And if we are to work together, you  _ must  _ listen to our complaints about templars. Those who are still alive and have attacked us in the past cannot be allowed back in.” Her voice is starting to waver, but she’s still standing strong.

“Of course,” Cullen says again. “Meredith is… gone. Templars are to protect, not to abuse. You have our word.” Beside him, Carver nods again.

Rose takes a deep breath. “Then let’s get started.”

**9:38**

It doesn’t take long for the Gallows to fall back into a routine. It will take much, much longer for the mages to stop jumping at every clink and jangle of templar armor.

Though probably the youngest first enchanter in the history of the Circles, Rose moves into Orsino’s office and prepares to clean the mess he left behind. The mage population was decimated during the rebellion, thinning out the over-population that had been a very small part of the problem before. It’s easy for Rose to fill Orsino’s shoes.

Cullen moves from his office to Meredith’s across the hall from Rose. They both work with their doors open, encouraging mages and templars to come to them with problems as they settle into their new normal.

It’s surprisingly comforting to hear Cullen’s voice drifting across the hallway during the day. Their open door policies often mean that they need to work together to solve conflicts between mages and templars, and though Rose always retreats to her office as soon as she can, it shows her how Cullen has changed since the last time they truly spoke.

She asked him to prove that he’s trustworthy. He has.

Every complaint directed against one of the templars is handled with swift and decisive action. Cullen is fair with his own men, but he never lets them get away with the things Meredith encouraged. Cruelty is met with immediate censure, templars often relieved of duty or put on limited lyrium rations for a few days.

It’s this punishment that gets the fastest results.

Cullen, too, adjusts quickly to his new role. He is finally able to change things, to search for the balance between mage oppression and mage protection. It is difficult, he finds, to shake off the old memories of Kinloch and the new memories of Orsino and the rest of Kirkwall’s blood mages and see the living people in front of him.

But he tries. And when he fails, Rose is there to correct him.

It isn’t easy, but they work together to rebuild the Gallows even as the chantry struggles to keep Circles across Thedas from falling too.

Late nights working evolve into conversations shared over meals. First over how the Gallows can be improved and the mages kept content and safe, then more about their lives before and after Kinloch.

Cullen speaks of his family in Ferelden, of his desire to  _ do good  _ that led him to becoming a templar, of his nightmares and fears and lingering hurts. He speaks of Warden-Commander Amell, of Sophie, of how he was cruel to her when she liberated Kinloch. He speaks of his regrets, long buried but growing deeper now, of how he treated all of the mages after the Circle fell.

He speaks of his regrets he’s built up in Kirkwall, of how he let Meredith grow more controlling and dangerous, of how he let the mages under his care get hurt, of how he let the anger of his past affect hundreds of people.

Rose speaks of her family--what she can remember, at least, from before she was taken to Kinloch. She talks about  _ her  _ nightmares, similar to Cullen’s, but reflecting the differences between mages and templars. She speaks of her desire to see the Circles change, to become places of learning rather than prisons, and they argue over how to make it work while still keeping everyone safe.

One night, she sees the handkerchief she gave Cullen years ago to stop his lip from bleeding. It’s old and stained, no longer white, but the roses she embroidered clear in the corner.

She laughs.

“Why did you keep that?” she demands, eyes shining with mirth and the wine that they shared.

Cullen’s face turns a deep red. “I… don’t know,” he hedges. The wine has affected him too. “It seemed wrong to destroy it.”

“I could at least give you new ones,” she says, reaching out to take the fabric from him. Their fingers brush together, and her blush blooms to match his. “Ones that aren’t so old and gross. I could put your initials here instead of roses, if you wanted.”

Cullen shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. The motion disrupts the strands, and they curl across his forehead in rebellion. “I… like the roses.” He won’t look at her, and she folds the handkerchief to give her fingers something to do.

“I’ll make more roses, then,” she declares, and pushes herself onto her feet. She leans against his desk for a moment, and he looks up to meet her gaze. “And then you won’t forget who gave them to you.”

Cullen grins, his eyes wrinkling at the edges. “I’m not likely to forget you regardless,” he says, and then immediately blushes a brilliant red.

Rose gapes at him, lips slightly parted, then shakes her head and leaves his office without another word.

\---

She does make him some handkerchiefs, though. Three of them, all with tiny roses in the corner. Her stitches are smaller and neater than they were when she arrived in Kirkwall six years ago, the roses easier to see.

He keeps them with the first one she made, the one he isn’t supposed to still have.

They don’t mention it again.

**9:39**

“Those  _ fucking  _ sons of bitches!”

Cullen drops his quill when he hears Rose begin to yell from her office, and he’s on his feet with his hand on his sword before he realizes it. He crosses the hall as her tirade continues, words he didn’t know she knew spilling from her lips until he stands in front of her.

“Rose!” he has to raise his voice to get her attention. Her eyes are wide and red-rimmed, her jaw set. She waves a letter at him until he takes it.

“The White Spire revolted,” she snaps, voice still raised. Cullen takes a step away from her to close her office door. “Apparently, there’s been a cure for tranquility  _ this whole time. _ ”

“What?” Cullen doesn’t recognize his voice, as shaky as it is. He sinks into one of the chairs Rose keeps for visiting mages as she continues.

“The Lord Seeker tried to assume control, and the mages rose up against him. There was a battle, and now the Circles are disbanding and gathering at Andoral’s Reach. There’s going to be a vote on independence.”

Cullen scans the letter as she rants, reading the report sent by a first enchanter from one of the other Circles. When she quiets down, he glances up to see her leaning against her desk in front of him, head in her hands.

“This is it,” she whispers, the fight draining out of her. “This is the end. There’s going to be a  _ war  _ and it’s going to be just like Kinloch and just like here. Again.”

Cullen stands and drops the letter to her desk. After a moment’s hesitation, he reaches out and grasps her upper arms, squeezing lightly and running his thumbs over her sleeves. “We knew this was coming,” he reminds her. “Anders all but guaranteed this.”

She sniffs softly and refuses to uncover her face to look at him. He squeezes tighter when he feels her trembling. “I have  _ fought  _ to keep our mages safe here, and for what? As soon as they find out, there’s going to be bloodshed again. I can’t do this, Cullen. I can’t do this again.”

Her voice breaks on a sob, and Cullen reacts without thinking. He doesn’t think of their positions, as templar and mage, and he doesn’t think about how this might look if someone comes to find her. He just pulls her into his arms and rests his chin on the top of her head,

Rose fights for another moment, back stiff, tongue caught between teeth, before melting against him. Her fisted hands relax onto the cold metal of his breastplate, her tears falling on the Sword of Mercy emblazoned on his chest.

This is the first time she’s let her guard down enough to show her weakness to him. He knew she worried about the mages, about the war looming over them both, about what it means for their futures… but holding her as she sobs makes his chest ache.

He sways gently on his feet, one hand coming up to cup the back of her head as she leans more heavily against him. 

When she calms down, her hands turn back into fists that she uses to push him away. He steps back, letting her have her space, and pulls one of the handkerchiefs she made for him from his belt. She takes it with a little smile, drying her cheeks before folding it and handing it back.

“I’m sorry.”

Cullen twists the white fabric in his fingers. “You don’t have to apologize.”

Rose crosses her arms over her chest and stares at his hands. “I just… I don’t know what to do, Cullen. If we keep this from the mages, they’re going to be furious when they find out. If we tell them, they’ll want to leave and go to Andoral themselves.”

“I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be able to keep them here,” Cullen says, sighing heavily. “If the College of Enchanters votes to leave the Chantry…”

“The templars are uneasy too,” Rose interrupts. “The Divine isn’t acting quickly enough for them. They  _ killed  _ mages in the White Spire. I don’t know what your options are, either.”

Cullen blinks at her, surprised into silence. “The templars are also rebelling?”

Rose shrugs. “Everything is going to shit.”

Cullen’s chuckle is dry. “You’re not wrong.” He pauses, considering, then reaches out to put his hand on her elbow. He squeezes gently when she smiles sadly up at him. “We will be okay,” he says. “I promise.”

**9:40**

The Circle is almost eerily quiet now. Many of the mages and templars have left, either going to join the rebels in Ferelden or to follow the Lord Seeker as he calls for the templars to leave the chantry.

Rose stays in the Gallows. She wants her freedom, but she isn’t a fighter. She isn’t like Clove, whose fire magic can send even the strongest templars into a panic, and she isn’t like Megan who can freeze men where they stand.

She’s a healer, through and through. All she wants to do is help, and she can’t help by getting herself killed in the rebellion.

She can’t see more death. She’s had more than enough of that for one lifetime.

Cullen stays too, though he’s more restless. He doesn’t like what the templars are becoming, and he doesn’t like the way the mages are fighting against the chantry. He understands--not as well as Rose, and he doesn’t feel it as acutely, but he tries.

He’s also been researching lyrium in his spare time. Rose knows because she approves the book requisitions for the library, and she sees the books sitting around in his office when he’s gone. She doesn’t pressure him for information, but she starts reading the books when he’s done with them.

The addiction kills templars slowly. It strips them of their minds and makes them useless as mage hunters, so the chantry sends them away to die in peace. Cullen’s books are stuffed with pieces of paper marking important passages about withdrawal and its effects.

Cullen has been a templar for eleven years, taking lyrium every day. Stopping could very well kill him.

Rose is sitting in his office, reading one of these books, when he returns from a trip into Hightown. She looks up at him when he walks in, eyes wide, and frowns.

He isn’t wearing his armor, and he doesn’t look surprised to see her in his chair, though he does sigh when he sees the book in her hands.

“Something you need to tell me?” she asks, voice harder than she meant it. She shuts the book and pushes it across his desk to him, but doesn’t stand.

He sits in the chair opposite her and rests his elbows on his knees.

“I was speaking with the Divine’s Right Hand,” he says. “Cassandra Pentaghast. Divine Justinia is rebuilding the Inquisition and calling a conclave in response to the war.”

Rose just blinks at him, so he takes a deep breath and continues.

“She asked me to leave Kirkwall and become the Inquisition’s commander.”

“What?” Rose’s voice is high, too high, and Cullen raises his eyebrows in response. “Why?”

“She knows what’s happened here since Anders. She saw how we restored order, and she believes I can help the Inquisition.” Cullen rubs his hands together and looks down at them.

Rose does too. He isn’t wearing gloves for once, and she can see that his nails have been bitten down to the quick. The bags under his eyes are deeper than usual. He hasn’t been sleeping. He’s nervous about this.

“What does that have to do with lyrium?”

Cullen winces and still won’t meet her gaze. “If I take this position, I will quit taking lyrium. I will not be bound to the templar order when they no longer stand for what they should.”

Rose stands, the chair scraping hard against the stone floor as she moves. “You could die, Cullen,” she says, and tears spring to her eyes as she raises her voice. “You’re going to leave, and you’re going to put yourself in danger.”

He stands too, though he carefully keeps his voice low. “I can die a slow death here, or I can take this risk and change things.” He crosses his arms and growls, “I was here when Meredith put so much pressure on the mages that Anders felt like he had to attack. I was here when the war started, and I would be there to see it end.”

“But the  _ lyrium _ , Cullen--” Rose starts, but he cuts her off.

“I will not be bound to it. It is a crutch, a tool of control. I would rather die a free man than live a slave.”

Rose punches the top of Cullen’s desk, making the little bottles of ink rattle. “I don’t want you to die! You have been through too much for this to kill you.  _ We’ve _ been through too much.” A stray tear falls, and she swipes at it with the back of her hand. “I care about you  _ too much  _ for this to be it.”

His face softens and he uncrosses his arms. “Come with me.”

“Come--with you?” she squeaks, and she dashes away another tear that escapes.

He moves then, finally, rounding the desk to stand beside her. He reaches out with one bare hand and twines his fingers around hers. “I told Cassandra about you, too. About your healing and everything you’ve done for this Circle. She offered you a position as well, provided you want to come.”

Rose stares down at their hands. “We’d have to shut down the Circle.”

“Yes.” Cullen’s answer is simple, unhesitant.

“I wouldn’t be the First Enchanter. You wouldn’t be Knight-Commander.”

“Yes,” he repeats, fingers tightening on hers. He tugs her a step closer, and she moves easily until his free hand rests on her waist. “We make a good team, Rose. We put the Circle back together, and… perhaps we can help heal Thedas too.”

Rose rests her hand on his chest, feeling the warmth radiating off of him, the firmness of his muscle under her fingers. She looks up to meet his gaze and swallows hard against the lump that rises in her throat.

“I can help you with the lyrium,” she says. “I don’t want you to go through that alone.”

The scarred corner of his mouth lifts in a tiny smile. “I don’t want that to be your only reason to come. That isn’t why I told you.”

His fingers tighten their hold on her, and she slides her hand up his chest, across his shoulder, to the back of his neck. She lifts up onto her toes, pressing even closer, watching the way his eyes drop to her lips.

“I’ll come to be with you.”

His smile is wide and immediate. “Thank you, Rose.”

She smiles, her cheeks turning pink even as she licks her lips. She pulls down with her hand on his neck and he obeys, ducking down the rest of the way to press his mouth to hers.


End file.
